Chapter 19: Cassandra
I swept my hair out of my eyes, sighing. Staring at my screen I shake my phone as if that would fix the blank page staring at me. I know I should start writing. I know if I don't start now, I never will. I know that my followers are waiting for the next chapter of Stolen, Unbroken. I know all this, yet, there is still a blank page.
Looking out the window at the chicken coop, I think about the plot. What I need to say, to tell to make my story come to life. The oven clock blinks next to me. It says that the time is early afternoon. I stand up, my joints creaking as I push the stool back. Walking around to the fridge, I reach to the back for the jug of orange juice. Pouring myself a glass, I sit back down.
My phone buzzes. It's a text from my friends.
Party tonight, 6 at the Brooken, you coming?
Can't I text back, Empty page waiting.
And then it hits me. I begin my opening sentence.
It wasn't long before dawn, only minutes. The crowd around me tensed in anticipation. I slunk through the waters, the seagrass rippling. In the distance , seagulls flew over the bay. The first edges of the sun began peeking over the horizon line.
I stood in the water, watching, waiting. My heart was pounding fast- so fast. I stood, water pouring off my shoulders as the sun rose, just a little more. I held my breath, they had to do it. Now, today, or never. It had to be today. The solstice, the eclipse, and the comet.
I closed my eyes, the early rays warming my skin. I let myself soak up the sun, it would be the last for a while. Maybe, soon, someone- something- would wake.
I opened my eyes, just in time to see the asteroid hit the moon, sending it spinning towards the sun. A brilliant flash of light before an echo of the sun.
And then, I was gone.
When I awoke, I was standing in a meadow, the grass tickling my feet. A brook trickled along the edge. In the distance, I saw two children, brother and sister, playing in front of a manor.
I looked at myself dressed in a light, flowing dress. The cool air chilled my shoulders even though a sweater was draped over them.
I stop writing. I reread it all. I hate it. It feels like a memory. It feels real. I want to delete it, but I can't.
A knock at my door breaks me from my stupor. I stand up, leaving my glass of forgotten juice on the table. Outside a girl with strawberry-silver hair dressed in "not country" clothes waits. When she sees me she waves frantically. Even though I've been living in the South my whole life, a proud total of 18 years, thank you very much, but I've never adopted that Southern hospitality idea.
I crack open the door and she begins her spiel at 250 wpm.
"Hi-hello-how-are-you? Sorry!" She slowed down. "Let me introduce us. This is Delphi," She pointed to a girl with silver-blue hair. "I'm Rachel, and that's Percy."